Operation Phoenix: Restoring Andy and Miles
by Chris St Thomas
Summary: Crusader AU. What if SkyNet wasn't the only killer AI netowrk? To defeat several, the Connors will need all the help they can get. This is the tale of they keep Miles Dyson and Andy Goode alive to win.
1. you may not like the answers v2

Disclaimer: Thanks again to creators like Cameron, Hurd, Mostow, Vanja, Schwarzenegger, Hamilton, Heedly, Glau, et al for making the Terminator Saga such a wonderful playground of the mind. And especially for sharing the wonderful toys with us.

A/N -- Moderate overhaul with help for Dragonlots. Now includes some flash backs into my other stores and episodes from the show to help the reader who is joining us in progress. Continues from The End is the Beginning is The End by St Thomas..

Operation Phoenix: Resurrecting Andy and Miles

Chapter 1: You may not Like the Answers

"We're more like priests than cops in what we do … changing Destiny." An actor named Steve Harris said that line in a Spielberg movie called _Minority Report. _The Mission we are about to embark upon is no less weighty. My name is John Connor and my mother, my uncle and I are about to go back in time and raise a man from the dead.

Andrew Goode had been a computer geek who left college to help his ailing mother. He'd needed a business partner to teach his program The Turk to play chess. He had been cell phone store manager and sold Mom our cell phones. He had taken her to dinner a couple of times and invited her to see his creation Turk 2.0 compete in a Computer Chess Championship.

Andy Goode was dead because of what my uncle, Captain Derek Reese, had already done (put a bullet into his skull) and what I would someday do (send my uncle back in time). He was also dead because of what my uncle believed he would do: build the Machine that would one day become Skynet.

He's been dead now for a year and a half now and we're all still here, except Cameron. I'm still here, so Skynet still sends the first T-800 back to try to kill Mom in 1984, and I still send Derek's little brother Kyle back to save her (and become my father). Derek is still here, so the Resistance must still be concerned about the Turk and the LA County Traffic Control Network. And my heart still aches for Cameron, gone back into that very much discovered country, the future. I miss her smile, the touch of her hand, the feel of her faint heartbeat next to mine, her words of encouragement.

Before she left to return to 2027, Cameron had told me that the Russian Terminators we'd fought and retired a couple of months ago had not been made by Skynet: They had been built by a Russian AI network completely separate from Skynet. Then as she showed me how to program her Time Jump, I begged her to stay in 2009. 'Look inside yourself John.' She had told me. 'I have to go. Give me an overwhelming reason to stay.' I had thought for a moment, but I knew what it was. 'Okay. I need you. You're my friend.' Friend, pal, confidante…cuddlebunny. 'I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm falling--' She had cut me off and told me to save it for the human girl.

I realized that the bond she and I had forged represented more than just a friendship between a boy and his Android. It represented a new paradigm of hope. Skynet, RussiaNet, AchmedNet, not just one but several paranoid, genocidal AI networks were inevitable. The only way to over come them was not by destroying them, but by constructing a stronger, faster, better AI as Humanity's ally, companion, friend. When I had shared this with Mom and Derek, a knock down, drag out argument had followed with shouting and even a knife throw into the wood-grain paneling. In the end we had agreed on two things: an AI ally was our best hope and we needed Andy Goode and Miles Dyson back to build it.

Technically, we wouldn't raise Andy from the dead since we would actually take him forward in time past the danger to his life. Thus, he wouldn't actually be killed. But that technicality doesn't make him any less dead to me. I wonder how I will remember it after this Mission is done.

Sarah and Derek know that we will need start-up capital for the coming venture of constructing a friendly AI.

So Mom, Derek and I had gone back to the beginning of the dot com boom and bought a thousand shares of Google when it was at its lowest. Sarah had mailed the transaction receipt to herself with instructions to sell when the stock hit $450 per share. That had been easy, anonymous; we just had to use old currency.

I know this Mission won't be easy. These things never are and we've already been through it a couple of times. Except that Mom and I are on the other side now. Now we're the ones going back to do the saving, instead of just tagging along and getting saved. Yet, as we stand together in a Time Lab built in a dusty old redundant power room in 60s era parking garage, Derek and I programming the Time Jump, none of us has any idea how tough it would be. Mom and I had wondered what the T-888 that we had fought off at the safe house had done between that time and when we retired it while rescuing Uncle Derek from LAPD lock up. Be careful of the questions you ask, because you may get answers you don't want.

Uncle Derek adds a ten second delay and joins us inside the center circle. We crouch together and hold our breath as lightning and that eerily familiar blue sphere swallows us…

…and spits us out naked and shivering into a Salvation Army thrift store in the outskirts of LA, the night before the SoCal Invitational Computer Chess Championships. We pull clothes off the racks and I spit two $10 bills out of my mouth by the cash register. (I know that's gross, but it's the only way to bring anything along for the trip). I don't like stealing.

Derek finds the cheap alarm system contacts on the back doors. I try to deactivate the system by loosening its battery. When that doesn't work, Mom takes a sledge hammer to it. Thank Heaven that Police response time isn't very quick in this downtrodden neighborhood. We go out through the back door and borrow two cars. Okay we steal them, but it's unavoidable and with any luck we'll ditch them in good condition somewhere they can be found. Well, that's what I want to think. Maybe someday one of these Missions won't involve property destruction. I haven't been involved in one yet, but I can always hope, right?

Mom takes one to find Andy. She would talk to him and prepare him. Derek and I take the other to get Cameron. Cameron! I haven't seen her for the entire two weeks it took to plan this Mission, and my heart still hurts just as bad as it did the day she left. Now I finally knew what her 'solo' mission was about the night before Andy's chess tournament.

Derek and I pull up to the curb at the house next door to ours. I stay in the car to minimize the chance that I could see myself. That sort of thing may not cause time paradoxes in dreams but in the real world it might blow up the Universe. Or something. It just seems like a smart precaution. Derek walks up to the house and throws pebbles at the kitchen window. I remembered how Cameron had gotten up from the table where we'd been doing our homework and gone to look out the window. She'd returned to pack up her books and papers and told me she had an errand to run. She grabbed her softball bag, not the one with softball bats and workout clothes, but the one with handguns, ammo, tools and an extra cell phone. I'd woken up in the pre-dawn grey the following morning to see her staring at me slightly embarrassed. I wondered why then and I still do.

She walks out with Derek, a cold and determined look on her face. But when she catches sight of me her face brightens for a moment. Then she tilts her head sideways, slows her stride and her eyes go out of focus for about half a second. Then her eyes clear and she gives me soft confident smile. "Didn't I just leave you in the kitchen doing your homework?" She asks as she climbs into the back seat of the car.

"Yeah." I smile. My whole life has been one big time paradox. What was I worried about. "I'm still in there if I remember correctly."

Speaking with a delay between each word, "What's going on here?" Cameron questions. She looks at me. I look at Derek.

"We've come back from 2009 to fix a mistake we're about to make tomorrow." Derek answers.

"Letting Andy Goode live?" Cameron nods a couple of times and smiles slightly. "I can fix that," her expression and tone go flat, "I don't need your help for that."

"No. The mistake was killing him." Derek starts the car.

"I do not agree," Cameron holds out a hand to stop Derek from putting the car in gear. "His Turk machine could be very dangerous."

"Or it could be very beneficial," I reply. "If we guide its development with hope and respect, it could grow up to be your electronic grandfather." I hope this earlier Cameron buys it. "Wait, do you have the super taser?"

"No," She faces toward me and her eyes go slightly out of focus as though she's thinking. "If we run into Cromartie or the Terminator from the safe house we may need it." Cameron gets out and walks back inside the house, returning moments later with the super taser. The Supertaser consists of two 50,000 Volt tasers taped together with a common aim-point. It gives 100,000 Volts of Terminator rebooting power. Now that we actually have everything we need, my uncle pulls away from the curb into the sparse flow of traffic.

On the way to meet Sarah and Andy, we hope for the best and prepare for the worst. While Derek drives through a deserted warehouse park, Cameron and I dig into the softball bag and pass around leather shoulder holsters, hand guns, clips of ammo for each of us. I notice several small nerf footballs in there and look questioningly at Cameron. "I have a plan," is all she says.

After an uneventful drive across town, we pass through the neighborhood of the coffee shop where Andy, for the last several days, has been re-writing the Turk's code. We drove around the block scanning all the doors, windows, rooftops, alleys, cars, benches. Winos, businessmen, soccer moms, musicians, drug dealers and poets: none of them escape our attention. Or so we think.

Derek pulls up to the curb across the street and slightly down from the coffee house. Getting out, he walks across the street to check in with Sarah and see how it goes with Andy. My teenager hormones want to climb into the back seat with Cameron and get completely distracted. But my brain overrules them. Stop. Fantasizing. About. The Android. She and I get out to set 360 degree security at front and rear corners of the coffee house building. I sling the softball bag over my shoulder.

As we all fan out to our positions, an SUV with lights off pulls out of the parking lot next to the coffee house. The vehicle begins to accelerate toward Derek. I shout a warning, but Cameron has already sprinted past me. When she reaches Derek, he has already ducked between two cars parked at the curb. She quickly takes him down to the ground and tries to wrestle him under one of the cars, positioning her back toward the street.

I take cover behind another car as the SUV shoots past Derek and Cameron. I hear three shotgun blasts and hope the best for them. As the SUV passes, the Terminator from the safe house looked out the window. Maybe the Machine sees me, maybe not.

From a crouched position, I draw my weapon and skittered up the sidewalk, putting two more car lengths between me the SUV. Leaning around the hood of an Audi A6, I line up a shot on the SUV's gas tank. My Glock barks four times. No explosion. Then I recognized the loud bass rumble of a diesel. No wonder.

I holster my weapon and pull out a Leatherman, handheld multi-tool. I want the Audi, but it probably has Lo-Jak. I settle for the beat up old yellow Camaro hatchback next to it. I climb in force the ignition and the engine roars to life. Popping the hatch and dropping my window, I pull around next Cameron and Derek. "If you want to live, come with me!" I shouted without thinking. Later I thought about how ironic it was for me to be the one shouting that.

Cameron and Derek scramble into the street toward the back of the Camaro. I see blood streaming from Derek's head and shot wounds in Cameron's back as well. They climb into the back of the Camaro and pull down the hatch. I hit the accelerator and speed out of the neighborhood. The T-888 in the SUV is back on our tail.

While I maneuver through side streets and alleys cutting corners to keep the deadly Machine behind us from getting a bead with any rifle or shotgun it might have, Cameron checks Derek for additional injuries. By the time I got us onto a main thoroughfare, she has bandaged that nasty looking head wound.

"It looks worse than it is," she reports. "Head wounds bleed a lot, but he was just grazed. It makes a mess but he'll recover."

I look into the rearview mirror, Derek has slumped to unconsciousness. I see Cameron checking his radial pulse on his right forearm. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"His pulse and breathing are slightly elevated," she stated, "but that's normal for fight and flight. He's not going into shock." She pulled a tube out of the softball bag and unrolled it into a beach towel sized sheet of Kevlar which she proceeded to drape over Derek's head and upper body.

"Plan?" we asked each other locking eyes in the rearview mirror as a phone rang in the softball bag. Cameron picked it up and answered in my voice. "Hello, Mom?" she waited a moment looking back into the rearview. "We're kind of busy at the moment." She ducked down as the back window of the Camaro blew in. Then she pressed the end button on the phone and pocketed it.

As Cameron climbed into the front seat she spoke in Mom's voice, "You should steal an up-armored Hummer next time, to keep yourself safe, John."

I narrowed my eyes at her shaking my head. The only places to find up-armored Hummers were combat zones in the Middle East. I wanted to laugh and I knew she could see it in my eyes. Then I saw something interesting: a rickety, old, dry-rot ridden wooden fence, "How about a junk yard?"

"Automobile scrap yard?" she replied.

I nodded.

Cameron nodded back, "We can work with that."

I drove off the road and through that rickety, worn out, tired, old wooden fence, dodging around piles of crushed cars. The T-888 ploughed right through after us. We raced around the scrap yard looking for the car crusher. I was trying to gain some time and distance while Cameron traded shots with the killer Machine. All the while we yelled at each other trying to make a plan. About this time we located the crusher and Derek woke up. He immediately grabbed Cameron's spent ammo clips and began reloading them with spare ammo from the softball bag.

I yelled, "Why don't you lob a grenade and take out the engine of its vehicle."

Derek automatically answered, "That thing is more mobile on foot. Keep it in the vehicle and we have a slight advantage." The three of us pieced together a plan by the time I had gained maybe a minute's lead on the Machine's SUV. Cameron dug two of the nerf balls out of the bag and shoved one in each front pocket. She added the taser to her shoulder holster. I made my way back to the center of the scrap yard where the car crusher stood. The Camaro skidded sideways to a dusty stop and we fanned out.

The car crusher looked like a relic from the early 1970s with its faded, pealing paint and monstrous mechanical piston-driven smashing pads. Cameron hid around one side of the ancient crusher. I ran to the controls, hoping that I could figure it out and reminding myself that Heaven lifts those who lift themselves. Derek climbed up to the top of the car crusher silhouetting him self for exactly one second. Then he dropped behind the huge metal crushing pad as a hail of bullets crashed against it. My uncle took off his bloodied bandage and threw it to the bottom of the car crusher. Then he climbed out the back side putting the mass of the crusher between himself and the Machine that sought his death.

The Terminator dismounted the SUV and scanned the area. All of us were out of sight and Derek was far enough behind the mass of the crusher that the T-888's thermal scan couldn't detect him either. The Machine pointed its nose toward the sky and sniffed the air. It stood there motionless, as only a machine can, in the settling dust and clear moonlight for a long second, apparently analyzing the smells. Identifying the scent of Derek's blood, it turned its cranial chassis (aka head) toward the crusher and took off running toward it.

As the Terminator quickly climbed up the side of the crusher, Cameron emerged from her hiding place. She called up to the Terminator, "Hey you! Ugly!" It ignored her. She smacked it in the cranial chassis with a broken break cylinder from an old car. It swiveled its cranial chassis and trained its twin red eyes on her. "Catch!" she yelled and tossed both of the nerf balls at it, one after the other. It batted one away with a hand. The second on hit it in the square in the gut and exploded.

The explosion knocked the killer Machine backward into the car crusher. Cameron leaped to the top of the crushing pad and then down into the bowels of the crusher. I heard a couple of the obligatory body slams as she and the Machine slammed each other into the walls crusher's walls. Then I heard the sizzling Zot!! of the taser.

"One hundred and twenty seconds!" Cameron shouted "Let's go!"

Derek shouted, "Wait! Retire that thing. It shoots me day after tomorrow!"

I called back, "No! That gun shot brought Charley Dixon back into our lives and the transfusion I gave you--"

Derek called, "It scked. The whole fraking fight experience scked. Destroy it."

"One hundred ten!" Cameron shouted reminding us from within the bowels of the crusher.

"Derek, please, after the transfusion, I had a dream. A good dream. A dream that gave me hope for the future and helped inspire this Mission."

"Okay," he relented. "We win that fight anyway."

Cameron zapped it again and leapt back out of the crusher. While she perched on top of one of the crushers pads, I dropped a wrecked Cadillac on top of the Terminator. We all ran back to the Camaro.


	2. tension and humor v2

Disclaimer -- still dont own it

A/N modest overhaul with help from Dragonlots.

Operation Phoenix Chapter 2 Tension and Humor

We drive the beat up Camaro out of the scrap yard and jack another older model from the parking lot of a closed auto repair shop. Its transmission turns out to be missing second gear so we swap again a half mile down the road. I thread us back through the suburbs. While Cameron re-bandages his head wound, Derek insists more than once that he could drive. I refuse.

We stop at a convenience store and while I go in for bottles of water, beef jerky, and Balance nutrition bars, my uncle gets out and walks around the car like he's going to get into the drivers seat. Cameron stares him down. When we get back on the road, we all drink water. Derek and I each had a Balance bar. Cameron decides to wait on eating the protein that would help heal the skin of her back until after I remove the buckshot. She had taken most of the shoot when the T-888 had tried to kill Derek back at the coffee house.

Soon we make it back to the deserted warehouse park where we had armed ourselves an hour earlier. This time we have to make repairs to Cameron's back. I pull the car into one of the unoccupied structures.

Cameron and I sit Indian style on the trunk of the car. I have her shirt off, with pliers, scalpel, needle and thread laid out on the roof. While I pull slugs out of her back and sew up the wounds, the phone rings. Derek grabs it out of the side pocket of the softball bag. He talks to my mom for a few moments and then sets it down switched to speaker. "…clothes back on this instant, John Matthew Connor! We're on a Mission here. This is not the time for kissing and making out!!" Derek cracks up. "What are you laughing at, Mister?" Oooh, Mom was hacked at Derek; I knew that tone from experience.

"That'd be Captain Reese to you ma'am." He chuckles some more.

I shout back, "Mom, it's not like that, she has a back-full of buckshot from when the T-888 tried to run over Uncle Derek and she saved him from getting shot! I'm pulling out--"

Mom talks right over me, gives us the address where she and Andy had moved following the shots on the street. "Andy still needs more convincing, remember. He says that what I've told him sounds like the makings of a great science fiction trilogy, something like _Back to the Future_ meets _2001: A Space Odyssey_. I can't seem to get him to understand that Cameron is an android who walks and talks not just a mainframe computer like HAL-9000."

Derek picks the phone back up. "That's about what we expected. We'll meet you in the back parking lot after we're done with Cameron."

I continue buddy aid with Cameron. Derek brings up one final point for the plan with Andy, "So, what do you guys think Cameron could do to prove to Andy that she's from the future? I say exposing her hand like the big Austrian guy did for Miles is out."

"Yeah, that would freak him out too much." I agree.

"We need to preserve his optimism and hope," Cameron says evenly as I reach into her back with the needle nose pliers to remove some more shot. "Something that shocking could be traumatic to one as naïve as he." Then she grits her teeth as I go deeper with the pliers; one could swear she is feeling the pain.

I think about what Harry Dresden would do with pain, walling it off in another part of his mind. I wonder if that would work for an Android. Then another idea of a way for Cameron to prove herself springs to mind, "Speaking of Sci-Fi movies, could you do that 'knife around the fingers' routine like the Bishop android did in _Alien_?"

"I could do that –ouuuch," she grunts as I work another slug out of her back.

Derek speaks up, "Wouldn't work for same reasons as the forearm: too intense and shocking." He thought for a moment and then laughs, "Hey, would your spine light up red if you and John--"

"Uncle Derek, sheesh. She's still posing as my sister in this time period,"

"--kissed, okay, I was going to say kissed." Derek does some quick verbal sidestepping, "I guess you two are still innocents in some ways. I take it back."

Cameron turns her head around inhumanly far and smiles coyly, "Brothers and sisters do kiss sometimes. I've heard girls talk about it in the restroom at school. We could try it now, John."

I'm feeling uncomfortable and so I silently begin to remove the last of the shot from Cameron's back. She turns her face back to a normal angle and grits her teeth again.

With the pliers out of her back, Cameron makes a suggestion with an enthusiastic giggle of her own, "And I can't just open up a seam in my chest and expose my internal mechanisms, like Daneel Olivaw did in _The Caves of Steel._"

"Why not?" Derek looks at us and winces, "I mean seriously? All the Terminators I've ever seen were just mechanical systems underneath the synthetic skin."

"I have organs in here, too," she points toward her chest with four fingers and begins to trace out an interesting pattern, "heart, lungs, stomach, kidneys, adrenals, to name a few," was she pointing to the locations of her organs? "They're smaller than normal and in different places, but there none the less."

I look over her shoulder down at her chest. "Those are normal size."

"And they're real, too." Cameron gives a quick smile and then relaxes her face. "Sew me up," she hands me the needle and thread. "We're on a timeline." Then she tears open a bag of beef jerky and begins to eat.

When we finish with the needle and thread, I wipe Cameron's back down with moist towelettes, I had grabbed from the convenience store. Some of the shallower wounds have already healed. We stow the combat gear and first aid kit back in the softball bag in the trunk and I drive again. On the way I remember how the T-888 stood absolutely still in the wrecking yard and the three of us hash out a plan.


	3. message in a bottle

Operation Phoenix Chapter 3:

Messages to and from the Future

When we reach the place where Andy and Mom moved, Cameron has already fixed her make up and put on my button up shirt. I park, resisting my impulse park on an angle in the space. When I do that Mom will swear that I grew up in Dade County Florida in my last life. Derek waits outside. Head wounds are not going to help things with Andy. Once more into the breach we go.

Cameron and I re-introduce ourselves, I can't remember if we're supposed to have met Andy yet or not. Andy is laughing jovially. "So, your mom here should be pitching film script ideas to Spielberg, James Cameron or Ridley Scott. She's got a great story idea that sounds like _Back to the Future_ or _Déjà Vu_ meets _2001: A Space Odyssey_." He has sooo not taken a word she said seriously. I hope she didn't tell him about Skynet, nuclear war or Terminators, yet. "And you my dear," he gestures to Cameron with his whole hand, "I don't know what it says about you and your Mom's relationship, but she wants to name the HAL-9000 supercomputer character after you."

Cameron gets a blueberry muffin and a decaf, soy latte with two shots of espresso. I get some naturally decaffeinated Earl Grey and a fruit cup.

We sit there and joke and hang out for a few minutes. Cameron does her best 'I'm human just slightly autistic' routine. Heck, we're all playing at normal for Andy's sake. Then I look at my watch.

I'm not wearing my watch. It's sitting on top of my clothes in the Time Lab up in 2009. I find a clock on the wall and this is all starting to weird me out. I'm sure that 2007 me is sitting up back home waiting on Cameron to get back. John 2007 has school tomorrow and needs to sleep, so we have to wrap this up and get my Android pal back. I remember not being able to get sleep this night. Now I know why (terminator fights, talks with Andy, one of us must be feeling the pressure, until just now it wasn't me). "Hey guys, look at the time, tomorrow's a school day. I probably have a test tomorrow."

Mom says, "Yeah, gee, John's right. We were having such a great time though."

"Except that street gangs or drug dealers shot up the street at the other place and broke my concentration…" Andy spreads his hands in a gesture that seems to say 'but whattay gonna doaboutit? And then he looks affectionately at Mom,"It's a small price to pay, to steal an evening with you, Sarah Baum."

So, we're all standing up walking out to the back parking lot, where I hope to Heaven that my uncle is out of sight. We get outside and we're walking across the parking lot, all joking and carrying on until Cameron freezes. Like only a machine can, she goes rigid, stock still in mid-stride, perfectly balanced. The breeze stirs her brunette locks. Her perfect lips are open as she had been in the middle of saying something. Her right hand is frozen in mid-gesture. Her wonderful legs…Stop. Fantasizing. About. The Android. Situational Awareness: Pay attention to what's going on around you.

Mom is standing there watching, nervously sipping on her to go cup of something. She looks like she wants a cigarette. But she hasn't smoked in years. She pulls out a ballpoint pen with the coffee house's log on it and starts clicking it.

Andy, Andy on the other hand is walking around Cameron examining her closely like a work of art. "My God what happened to her? Is it some kind of seizure?" He keeps walking around her in circles, looking at her arms, hands, shoulders, knees, chin.

Then she starts replaying all the conversation and sounds from inside from the moment we walked into the place including exact voices: introductions, placing the orders, Andy's little rif about sci-fi movies.

Andy straightens up to his full height and looks are Cameron's face. He walks closer and looks into her eyes, "What are you?"

Then she turns up the blue lights behind her eyes.

"Holy…Grail. The Turing test; she passed the Turing test. I thought she was maybe a high functioning autistic, but she's some kind of Android, isn't she? The technology to construct something, someone so exquisite, is years off. The biomedical stuff, maybe not so much, but the AI architecture, no way."

"Alright people, let's keep moving there's nothing to see here." I say that to break them all out of their holding pattern. No one else is here yet, but I see a car in the street driving towards us with its turn signal on, and I see people from inside the place walking toward the back door.

"Yeah, come this way my car's over here." Andy takes Mom, by the elbow.

Cameron finishes her stride like nothing happened. She and I walk over next to the powder blue enclosed motorbike that looks like a LightCycle from the 80s era sci-fi movie Tron. It looks like the sort of thing a computer and robotics geek would drive.

Andy's voice says behind us, "No, ah, it's the '99 white Ford Taurus next to it. Old. Bland. Paid-for." He smiles hold the front passengers' door open for Mom.

Cameron and I walk up to the back driver's side door and try it, but it's locked.

"No remote, either." Andy smiles nervously, then reaches down to the button on Mom's door. All the locks unlock. We get in.

"Wow." Andy's turned half way around in the driver's seat to mostly face us in the back. "You're a real live android. This is amazing."

"Yeah," I say, "and you seem to have skipped right past the time travel part."

"Um, yeah, well." Andy makes that who cares gesture again. "I love robots." Then he considers for a moment. We're all holding our breath except for Cameron who's just sitting there in the back of the car breathing and smiling like a starlet.

"What year are you from?" Andy asks after a few moments thought. Mom and I breathe.

"I came back from 2027." Cameron states blandly. "The team started on my construction in 2026."

"What's your name?" Andy continues

"Cameron Phillips."

"Two thousand twenty-seven is not a banner year." I start in this time. Last time Mom tried to tell someone his work in computers had ruined the future, she pulled a gun on him. Then she got derailed into a diatribe against men in general and weapons researchers in particular. I didn't think it was productive then. It won't be now. "See not all AIs are as cool and neat as my friend, pal and confidante here, Cameron. The biggest one got very high, very unhealthy doses of spy agency paranoia and military weapons technology. It kind of ruins everyone's day, year and century."

"So, why don't you stop it?" Andy asks, "I mean since you seem to already know about it."

"Believe me the Resistance has tried," I say tiredly, looking Andy in the eyes. "In 1997 CyberDyne blew up and Miles Dyson died." I kind of neglect to mention Mom's and my role in that whole incident. "That just delayed catastrophe by a decade or so. Do you know what we found out in 2009?"

Andy thinks for a moment, "President Hillary Clinton will raise everyone's taxes and not end the war in Iraq?"

"Besides that," I make a sweeping away gesture with my hand. "Everyone already knows that right here in 2007." I'm pushing that idea aside to make way for the next one. "We found out that there're at least two more crazy AIs on two different continents waiting in the wings to ruin everyone's millennium, if the American one doesn't do it first." I wait for that to sink in.

Then I continue, "Do you know what else? A lone Resistance fighter thinks that killing you tomorrow will make everyone's millennium better. But he doesn't know about the Russian AI just waiting to step in."

"What, why me?"

"The Turk. Someone wants to mix the Turk with paranoia and weapons tech and go boom. The Resistance guy thinks that killing you tomorrow will stop it. They're wrong. We think that if the Turk is raised with hope, respect and optimism, it can grow up to be cool and neat, like Cameron."

"What do you think?" Mom asks.

"Did he say kill me?" Andy looks back and forth between Mom and me with worry, fear and just a touch of craze playing out across his face.

"Try to relax." I say gesturing gently downward with both hands. "We know exactly when, where and how."

Mom takes his hands comfortingly, "We'll make sure that you're miles away."

Andy takes a few deep cleansing breaths. Breath in calm, breath out panic. "So, you want me to help you invent her?"

"Yeah, sort of," replies Mom, still holding his hands.

"Okay, count me in, let's go." Andy turns resolutely to start the car as though he just drive into his new future.

"No, not till after the chess tournament tomorrow." Mom says firmly. The look on her face says that she's resigned to keeping the timeline as much intact as possible.

Sneaking In

Derek saw Andy safely back to where he was staying while Mom and I took Cameron home. I rode up front while she rode in back. We were quiet on the way home. Each of us processing the enormity of the Mission upon which were embarking. Okay, I assume that's what Mom was thinking. I on the other hand was thinking that I had a rare opportunity with my Android pal here. Then I remembered that she was the one from Fall 2007, from a just a few weeks after the Case of the Falling Girl. What I wanted wouldn't be…I didn't know what I wanted.

We were sitting at a stop light and Mom took too long to move after it turned green. The guy behind us honked. I turned around to look and see if we were in any more danger than usual. Cameron was looking back as well, but she completed her assessment and turned back sooner than I did. I figured I had a second or two before Mom noticed me looking just at Cameron so, I quickly mouthed, 'Come find me.' She smiled slightly, but it didn't quite touch her eyes the way her smiles did back in 2009 before she returned farther uptime.

As we turned into our neighborhood, the satchel phone rang. Mom answered; it was Derek, saying that he had a place for us to stay. I saw Cameron wink at me in the rearview mirror. I hoped that meant she had heard the address.

Later, Mom slept, Derek took first watch. Inevitably, he and I both got hungry and he left for the convenience store across the street to get a can of mixed nuts and some fruit. About that time I heard stones hitting the bathroom window. I walked back there and opened the window slightly. Then I opened the medicine cabinet's mirror and angled it around so that I could see out through the window, but whoever was out there would have difficulty seeing me. I was pretty sure it was Cameron. I hoped that my thoroughness would impress her. It was her and when I opened the window to let her in she commented on it. "Cool trick with the mirror. Where did you learn it?"

I shrugged and tried not to smile too much. I wasn't sure I wanted her to see just how glad I was that she had come to see me, "Mom used to make me watch _MacGuyver_ re-runs. She said I could learn all kinds of tactical improvisation techniques."

She cocked her head slightly and deadpanned, "You mean there's something on TV besides the mindless drivel of late night infomercials and early morning cartoons?" Did her eyes twinkle when said that or am I wishing too hard?

I turned on the water in the sink to provide some white noise cover. I knew Derek would be back soon and I didn't want to wake Sarah either. "You know I remember catching you watching One Tree Hill and Dawson's Creek." I could have sworn I caught her blushing.

Cameron cut straight to the chase in that direct, matter-of-fact way she has, "Why did you call me here? We don't have much time."

Honesty time, "I just wanted to see you."

Cameron turned off the water and flushed the toilet. "Won't you see me when you go back to 2009?"

"Think it through. Deductive logic. You'll figure it out in a couple of seconds." I turned on the shower. "When we go back for Miles, I'm going to get the you from early April 2009, three weeks before Junior Prom." I thought about asking her to take a shower with me. But I knew that wasn't fair to her. She wasn't as emotionally developed as she would be in 2009. And I knew that something like that would throw off my developing friendship / courtship / whatever with her now in 2007. So instead I asked her how her back was where she took the shotgun blasts the T-888 had meant for Derek. She assured me that she would be fine by morning as long as she could get home soon to eat and rest. So, I decided to come to the point.

"Do you remember in the middle of the Case of the Falling Girl when you asked if I wanted to kiss you?" I was hoping that she would be ready by now, at least for what I wanted.

"Yeah, you chickened out." She chided me.

"Neither of us was ready." Akkk could this be any more awkward with a fully organic woman?

"Are you ready now?" she asked coyly.

I put an arm around her waist and pulled her to me. I kissed her full on the mouth. She kissed back. She didn't seem to know quite what to do. I pulled back for a second, "You okay?"

She pulled my head back down to her lips and kissed me back. I reached in with just a little bit of tongue. She tasted wonderful, like chocolate and roses and – someone banged on the door. We jerked apart. I ignored Derek's annoyed loud whisper. I said quietly, "Cameron, in 2009, you are my best friend. Actually you're way more than just my best friend."

"Best friend with benefits?" she asked in a dead pan.

"Not exactly. Best friend, pal, confidante." I replied.

"Are we sleeping together?" she tried again.

"Yes, but not all the time and we're not making love." I held up a hand, palm out, "Don't ask. We'll have a whole conversation about that sometime."

I took a deep breath, put one hand on her shoulder and squatted down to look into her eyes, "In a couple of weeks I'm going to say something ugly, that may hurt. I don't mean it. Never doubt that you are a person. Just because you're not fully organic, doesn't make you any less human, to me anyway." I gave her one more peck, because they come in threes, right? I gestured for her to go. She climbed out the window while I threw off my clothes, jumped in the shower and scrubbed down really fast. Now I knew what her blushing would be/ had been (how do you conjugate verbs in time travel?) about in the morning.

Three minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist, carrying my clothes. My uncle asked, "What was really going on in there, squirt?"

I replied defensively, "I was taking a shower, what's it to you anyway?"

"Your hair isn't wet."

Sneaking Out

The following day at the end of the SoCalInvitational Computer Chess Championship, Mom, UncleDerek and Iducked into the service entrance of the hotel avoiding ourselves because we had memorized the time sequence from the security video of Andy's disappearance. We got him out and the Turk 2.0 also. I guess this answered the question of who stole the Turk.

As we left the hotel where the Chess Tournament was held, I heard police sirens approaching. I recalled the Case of the Three Eyed Man. Up 'till now I remembered that case mostly as the time when Bailey and Olivaw, Ltd., got it's first paying gig upgrading the computer network security at that hotel. But now I thought back to Cameron's comments when we looked into the Contestant's Lounge behind the main competition area. 'Andy Goode appears to be dead, and I'm detecting an above normal static electric charge in the room.'

'And that means?' I had queried.

She had answered, 'It means that at least one temporal field has appeared in this room recently.'

'Skynet?'

'No.'

I hadn't bothered asking how she knew. At that point it hadn't mattered. Now it was clear. Up in the future, the Resistance had sent back a real corpse made to look like Andy. Maybe it was his from whenever he died up in the future. Just with a third eye added.

The following day while Cameron was still fighting with the T-888 and Derek (2007) was still getting shot, we (2009) entered our house. I found my laptop and scanned its memory. Uncle Derek's booking photos were still there. Apparently whatever the police found it that room had still convinced them to arrest and book Derek. Maybe that's all that had been there the whole time. Time Travel paradoxes will make your brains leak out your ears if you think on them too much.

We did not show any of the evidence of his 'murder' to Andy. While Mom and I were looking at LAPD files on my laptop Andy was sealing the small machine that was the Turk 2.0 in plastic. Derek helped him bury it in the back yard with Derek. Then we took Andy to the Parking Garage Time Lab and Time Jumped back to 2009.

Andy's alive; the time line's intact; five 'borrowed' cars: four left to be recovered and only one destroyed…not bad.


	4. how to save a life

A/N - Thanks again to my faithful beta reader, Dragonlots

Operation Phoenix Mission Two: Resurrecting Miles

How to Save a Life

Isaac Asimov once wrote that the best way to alter a time line with lasting results might be to find the small changes that produce maximum results. He called for analysis, planning, and subtlety. In all their efforts to stop Skynet, the Connor Clan never really went in for subtle. No, they went in for massive, like shooting up Miles Dyson's house, pulling guns on his wife and son and blowing Cyberdyne's research center to hell. That was a pretty massive intervention and all they had accomplished was to delay the Rise of the Machines and Judgment Day by about a decade. Maybe they should have read Asimov.

The Connor Clan are definitely reading him now, because they have to find a way to keep Miles Dyson alive while still stopping SkyNet's nuclear strike against humanity. Or at least they've got buy themselves enough time to develop the AI ally that will fight alongside with humanity against SkyNet, RussiaNet, ChiNet, AchmedNet and any other hostile AI network born of paranoia, hatred and fear.

Sarah, Derek and John had recently brought Andy Goode uptime to spring of 2009 from the fall of 2007. You know what they say about the life you save…you're responsible for it. A new ID, a new legend, a whole new him will all be his after they had saved Miles. Dressed in a faded Tron t-shirt and blue soccer shorts, the programmer sat at the kitchen table hacking some code on a laptop. John sat next to him writing an essay for World History from research notes. Together they were an island surrounded by the planning process.

"We've got to figure out the smallest thing we can change to produce maximum desired results." John said to whoever was listening. Maybe he was just talking to the kitchen cabinets or the unwashed dishes in the sink.

Irritated, he wiped his hands on his blue jean shorts, and grabbed the lapels of the unbuttoned collared shirt that he wore over his concert t-shirt. He pulled the collar forward from where it had fallen down below his neck, making the sleeves constrict his arms. With his shirt fixed, the future Leader of Man looked up from the notes and the laptop with which he'd been writing the essay. Looking around he saw charts, maps and floor plans spread out all over the kitchen island, the scratched coffee table next to the couch, even the space around where he and Andy worked at the kitchen table. Without focus, no one appeared to be paying attention to anyone else.

Sarah and Derek stood, hunched over their assembled diagrams around the island. They had decided together to call Charley Dixon in for this Mission, he would join the group when he could, between shifts with the rescue squad and spending time with his wife. So far she thought he was just pulling over time. When the pay check didn't reflect that there would be a reckoning. But hopefully the Mission would be over before then. Who knows, maybe he could find time in the past to buy a few shares of Google or Apple stock and then he'd have that to show for it.

John glanced over at the spot where Cameron used to sit and work on her homework. He could almost see her there in jeans and a spaghetti strapped orangeish-pink tube top. She wasn't, thought. She was gone, back to some unknown future, eighteen years uptime. Inside he still felt the anguish of her parting. He'd lost his friend, confidant, cuddle bunny, the closest thing to a girlfriend he'd ever had. "Save it for the human girl" she had told while they were programming her Time Jump.

Since his mother's commitment, the T-1000 and Skynet had made a complete mess of his life in the summer of 1997, he hadn't been ready for a girlfriend for a year and a half. It took that long to process the emotions of what had happened. Not to mention the fact that both he and his mother had been on the run from LAPD, ATF and an alphabet soup of other law enforcement agencies. How do you ask a girl to the football game, to the roller rink or even to a rave, when don't know if the cops are going to make your latest alias and your mom is going to say, 'Pack your bags'? And recently, with the fighting against Cromartie, Vic, Sarkassian and the Russian-Armenian crime syndicate, how could he bring a normal, real human girl into something like this? No, Cameron had been his only choice.

He wondered if his future self had counted on him falling for her like this and hatching a plan to design an AI ally for the war against Skynet. He wondered if she'd really grown to feel for him the way she had appeared to feel. Did it matter as long as she acted like it was real? No, it did not. Maybe his future self had just known that he needed a companion and the rest was bonus. Who could say? John looked back at his notes and typed some more on his essay

"And how exactly are we to do that, figure out what subtle thing to change?" Derek asked. Yea! Someone had been listening. John turned toward his uncle who looked as if he were trying to blend in with society: combed hair, shave, golf shirt, leather belt, and khakis all of which clashed miserably with is beat up work boots. "We don't have a magic all-seeing view screen, like cartoon heroes, or security camera videos of precisely what happened, like we did on Andy's rescue." He gestured with an open hand to the road maps and the topographical maps plus the floor plans of the Cyberdyne building and the Dyson residence. "We've just got to plan this like a military operation."

"We don't need security video. It's etched into my mind." Sarah groaned, wearing her usual fatigue pants (black today, rather than olive or brown) with a sleeveless shirt (very light pink, rather than white). Either she had started paying attention to fashion or Derek tried to do the wash again and mixed reds with whites. "My God, I still have nightmares about the day Miles Dyson died."

_Really? _John perked up even more. _I thought she always dreamed about Judgment Day and the Future War._

"Maybe we could get Terissa and Danny to go over it with us and help you remember." Derek pointedly stated.

John wasn't sure whether his uncle was being serious or sarcastic, but he knew a bad idea when he heard one. He piped up, "And maybe they won't ask us to pay for the next three to five years of psychological counseling to undo the damage of re-living that whole mess while remembering it with us."

"Wait a minute." Sarah held up a hand. "Terissa and Danny didn't seem all that traumatized the time John and I asked for their help, when Cromartie was first after us before we Time Jumped from 1999 to 2007." Then her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "Maybe we already did go back."

"Okay, Sarah," Andy looked up from the laptop on which he was writing code, "the other day you sounded like _Back to the Future_. Right now you sound like_ Déjà Vu."_

"Andy, please, let us do this," Derek directed.

The carport door opened and Charley—no doubt on his meal break— walked in quietly, wearing his rescue squad uniform with his paramedic's kitbag slung over a shoulder. He squeezed Sarah's hand, bumped fists with John and exchanged a curt nod of professional respect with Derek. "What did I miss," he whispered to Sarah who mouthed back 'Not much.'

"Miles was my friend and mentor." Andy sounded earnest, very earnest, so earnest it hurt. "I want to help, I really do."

"Look," the Future Leader of the Resistance spoke soberly, closing his laptop, "that day wasn't this family's finest hour." He paused. "We'd rather you didn't see it."

Sarah smiled at him, "Andy, we appreciate that you want to help, really we do."

"But the best thing you can do to honor Miles is to continue work on the code for the AI," Derek inserted.

"Then how come he gets to go?" Sarah's semi-boyfriend pointed at her former fiancé with his finger, calling him out.

Charley looked at Sarah and Derek and made a gesture with one hand as if to say, 'I'll handle this.' He looked at Andy evenly and spoke with the assurance of a man who knows himself and his place. He began his explanation with legitimate, tactical reasons. "First, I have combat experience with the Marines in western Africa. Second, I have paramedic training." Next, he gave a reason that put the young upstart in his place "Third, I was her fiancé. I've known her and known this family for years. You've been out with her what five times?" He offered an olive branch to the AI developer, "Besides, Agent Ellison of the FBI already filled me in on the worst of it a decade ago."

Andy looked at Sarah with an appeal in his expression.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," She protested right back. "I don't get to go on this one either. And neither does John."

"Why not?" The computer programmer asked somewhat befuddled. "You both came back for me."

"We had security video of your rescue." Sarah replied. "We knew where our 2007 selves were and we could avoid them."

"Okay…and why did you have to avoid your 2007 selves?" Andy felt confused. Programming he understood; time travel, not so much.

Charley dropped a copy of Asimov's _The End of Eternity,_ the closest thing there was to a military Field Manual on timeline manipulation, on the table in front of him. "If they went back and interacted directly with their earlier selves, they could cause a time paradox that would…"

"Blow up the Universe?" Derek and John both supplied together.

Charley looked back and forth between them nodding in agreement, "Yeah. Or it could create a new timeline in which they didn't exist. And none of us wants that," he spoke with openness again inviting the man who might have been his rival for Sarah onto his side, into their circle.

"Andy, dear, sweet, gallant Andy," Sarah walked over to stand behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. She squatted, bending her knees, putting her face next to his, "the best thing you can do for Miles is to carry on his legacy." She handed him a Starbucks giftcard and gave him directions so he could walk there. "Go. Drink a frappuccino. Make some progress on the AI."

Andy packed up his gear, picturing a Venti iced chai latte, and left.

"Okay, maybe John and Charley have a point." Derek began. "We need to go back through that day and see where we can intervene gently to produce lasting results."

After Andy left for Starbucks, Charley went to the refrigerator to forage for leftovers or sandwich makings; he was giving up his lunch hour for planning time. Derek cleared the maps off kitchen table and Sarah put a pot of Boca Java on to brew.

John checked his laptop to be sure that he had saved his work on the World History essay, then pulled a note pad with a pen from the cargo pocket of his jean shorts. He knew he would be the note-taker for the planning session once it got started in earnest.

Sarah started to relate her account of the day Miles Dyson had died. She and John had never really discussed it in detail. Living through it once had been enough. She took a deep breath, sat down at the kitchen table and began to tell her story.

Like so much else in this strange saga called my life, it started with a dream. We were down in Mexico at Enrique's place in Baja California. It was midday, just after we'd eaten lunch. John and the Terminator worked on the Bronco, changing the starter, while I cleaned my weapons. After I finished with the weapons, I carved on the wooden picnic table's top. At length, I slumped over and dozed: siesta time.

I dreamed of Judgment Day.

In the dream, I wore the same black fatigue pants and black tank top as I walked up to a fenced playground. Through the chain-link fence, I saw children playing. Small children, none more than five years old swayed on the swings and took turns on the teeter-totters. Laughter filled the air. In the distance, I could see downtown Los Angeles.

A warhead suddenly burned down, out of the blue sky. As I saw it, I ran the last steps up to the fence. I shouted at the children to run to safety pointing to the concrete block bathrooms. Then I saw little, toddler John there playing with the other kids. My younger self sat on a bench, seeing the fun but not really enjoying it. Younger me wore the waitress uniform from Shoney's. I worked there when John was three. Present day me grabbed the fence and shook it; I yelled, "Run!" Young me didn't hear. No one heard. I climbed over the fence and ran to scoop up little John.

The warhead detonated in a blinding flash of light.

A searing wave of heat roared through the playground setting fire to trees and people, fusing sand into glass. As the mushroom cloud began to form over downtown LA, the blast wave blew apart the buildings, the houses, and finally the playground, even me.

I woke with a start. I jerked my face up off my arms and glanced around. The world was still here. No mushroom clouds rose in the north. Looking this way and that, I searched for John. I saw him under the truck. His legs stuck out showing his cargo pocket shorts. He scooted out, grinning. Grease stained his Public Enemy band T-shirt while his short-sleeved, collared shirt hung out the open driver's side window. He was working with 'Uncle Bob,' the tall, Austrian accented, heavily muscled Terminator in biker leathers. The Machine showed no discomfort in the heat.

John was telling 'Uncle Bob' stories of his childhood 'riding around in helicopters and learning how to blow sh!t up.' I looked down at what I had carved: No Fate.

In that instant, looking at the words 'No Fate,' something crystallized in my mind, and I knew what I had to do. God help me, I thought I knew what needed to happen. I thought I could change the future and solve the world's problems with bullets and death. John, on the other hand, would try to solve them first with words and ideas, leaving weapons for later, for the Machines.

I hastily gathered a fully automatic M16A1 assault rifle with bipod, silencer, 100 power laser sight, and two thirty round clips full of ammo, as well as a sidearm, road atlas, and other gear I might need. I threw the gear in the station wagon, gave instructions to Enrique, cranked the vehicle and roared off in a cloud of dust. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I drove as fast as I dared, faster. Miles Dyson had to die and it could not be soon enough.

When I reached Miles' neighborhood, I set up my sniper position on the proverbial grassy knoll overlooking his lush back yard. Ignoring the vine-covered arbor, the 2x2 volleyball court and the resort-style pool, I sighted-in my weapon through the plate glass window of his home-office, setting a point just above the computer's monitor. Then I moved some greenery in around my sniper-nest. Finally, I got comfortable on the reverse slope of the knoll, with my trusty binoculars and watched the office.

Miles finally walked through the door wearing chinos and a plaid shirt. I let him settle in and get into his work, constantly looking down from his screen to his notes and back. Finally, he found his zone. He cruised on whatever he was working on. That was when I crawled back to my weapon.

I put the laser spot on the back of Dyson's close-cropped head. I made sure all my fundamentals were good: Body position, cheek weld, sight-picture, breathing, trigger squeeze and bang! He moved at the last second and his computer monitor shattered as the bullet passed through. Dyson's brains were still inside of his skull instead of where they belonged: in a red smear on the white wall.

I picked up the binos and looked to see why had bent over. Dyson bent down reaching to grab the remote control truck that had bumped into his leg. Dmn! Meddling child! Interfering from around the corner outside the office! Doesn't he know its bedtime? Where's his mother! ARRGGHH. I put three more rounds through the window opening, trying to aim at Dyson as he scuttled around on the floor like a crab. He successfully positioned himself, taking cover behind the metal desk.

I moved the selector switch on my M16A1 assault rifle to full auto and fired both of my clips angrily and without much control into his office. I surveyed with my binos and saw Dyson yelling frantically as he scrambled out from behind the desk. He darted through the office door into the family room. I folded my rifle, binos and the rest of my gear up in my poncho liner and threw it all into the back of the station wagon. I jacked the slide back on my .45 caliber sidearm and chambered around. I put the safety back on like a professional, strapped it back into the holster and dashed off to Miles's upscale house.

Reaching the glass front door, I drew the sidearm again, flipped off the safety and held it at the low-ready position while I barged into Dyson's house. I made my way into the family room ducking under paintings and dodging around vases, avoid unnecessary noise that would tip the target to my position in his house.

There he stood, murdering bastrd! That son of b!tch killed nearly five and half billion people! Again I thought of my marksmanship fundamentals: Shooting stance! Pistol grip! Sight picture! Breathing! Trigger pull! Three rounds flew across the room. One round winged him in the shoulder and spun him to the carpeted floor near entryway to the family room.

Quickly I closed with the enemy, barking commands.

Oh, dear God, why didn't that woman take her baby and flee? I know Miles must have told her to do that. I couldn't hear him or read his lips, but the Terminator had recited his dossier for me. The man adored his family. Occasionally the research tugged at him, yet most of the time when he was at home it was all about his wife, Terissa and his son Danny. So, I knew he must have told them to leave. Why were the wife and kid still there?

Why did Terissa and Danny have to see what happened next?? I ordered them, "On the ground! Now! Frakin' do it!" as I closed with Miles. I shouted obscenities at him and condemned him for the mass murderer I believed he would one day become. Poor, sweet, little, brave innocent Danny jumped and sprawled himself over the top of his father. The little guy's mother lay on the floor, next to the sectional couch, screaming and sobbing. Brave little Danny clad in overalls with his ball cap on straight and square, spread-eagled himself over his father. I ordered the little guy away, but he steadfastly stood his ground by lying down on top his daddy

After Danny jumped on top Miles's chest, the flow of time seemed to change subtly and it was like I was having an out of body experience without leaving my body. Suddenly I could see what was happening, what I was doing, from Danny's and Terrissa's perspective. As brave, little Danny lay there, my view point changed and I saw a boy pleading with a mean lady (me) in a soft clear voice, "Please, don't shoot my Daddy. Please don't shoot my daddy."

I saw his mother. From the corner of my eye, I saw Terissa freaking out of her mind at this wicked white witch all dressed in black with her pony tail tucked up in a black baseball cap (me). I saw Danny lying there begging for his father's life. I saw Miles Dyson, lying there on the floor stunned, but not flinching, telling his wife to take the child and flee. I saw in the steadfastness of Miles and Danny Dyson, something I hadn't had since 1984 when she and Kyle had stood up to the first Terminator.

All the awfulness of what I was doing slammed fully into my heart like an LA city bus at rush hour. It leaped, like that bus in _Speed_, from my heart another eighteen inches up into my brain. I dropped the magazine out of my weapon, and lowered it, while backing away from Miles and his terrorized family. I backed up to the cold wall next to the entry door, slid down it and dissolved into sobs.

Oh God what had I done!

Next, the Terminator burst open the front door and John scrambled around him. You ran over to see if Miles was still alive. Then you came back to me and squatted next to me, and hugged me. You told the Terminator to take care of Miles, and told me we'd would make this all okay.

"We'll figure something out," you said.

"You came here to stop me, didn't you?" I said.

And you replied, "Don't you get it, Mom? He gets it and he's a Terminator." You jerked your thumb toward the Terminator who was administering first aid to stop Dyson's bleeding. "You just can't go around killing people, Mom. You can't."

Sarah poured herself a cup of coffee, and sipped it at the kitchen table. She shook visibly trying to still her heaving sobs. John came over to her and hugged her and repeated his words from twelve years before, "We'll make this okay, Mom. We'll figure something out." She reached out a hand and Charley stepped over and took it in both of his. He looked down into her eyes with the compassion and understanding of a man who had taken enemy lives in combat and then vowed to save lives in peace time.

Sarah finally found her own voice, and sobbed loudly, "Why, oh why did I have to go in there guns blazing, yelling and swearing. I shattered that poor child's world. And his mother's, too." The three were still for a time. Even Derek came over and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder briefly.

After a while, when she quieted down, John went back to his note pad and Charley returned to his food. Derek said, "Firing pin."

Charley, Sarah and John looked up at him, "What?"

John knew that Cameron would have understood what Derek meant with just that one word. He felt another stab into his heart strengthening his resolve for the task that lay ahead.

Derek explained himself, "I'll sabotage the firing pen in your rifle. It will last for two, maybe three shots, then break."

"Okay, that works; that's a start." Sarah looked up at Derek with a weak smile, it was more in her dark eyes than her mouth. She reached for a napkin and dabbed at some tears that had welled up in her eyes. "That would take care of one weapon." she blew her nose. "But I could still go down there with my sidearm and repeat that awful scene with Danny and Terissa."

Derek responded, "Then all we'll need is for young John and his first Machine to get there in time."

"Nah. I remember how that went," John added. " 'Uncle Bob' and I drove 95 miles an hour and barely made it in time to treat Miles' gunshot wound."

"What took you guys so long?" Derek challenged.

"She said for us to head farther south into Baja like we'd originally planned." John sipped from a canteen of water. "So we continued packing and talking until we finally pieced together what was going on."

"I'm going to need someone to talk me out of going in there and unloading my .45 into him up close." Sarah looked around for volunteers.

Derek leaned forward, "Who could do that?"

"Well," Sarah's eyes took on a distant look, "I would probably listen to myself or John. Unfortunately but that would run us up against the whole time paradox issue."

All eyes turned to Charley who had finished his tuna and Swiss sandwiches and was in the middle of pealing a peach at the sink, "All right, I'm up for it," he offered. "I was still with the Third Marine Division in Okinawa, in the summer of 1997. I was on the other side of the Pacific Ocean from LA, counting down the days until my enlistment ended, so there's no likelihood of me meeting myself." He cocked his head and squinted thoughtfully, "Why not Derek? He's a blood relative, right?" The Paramedic brought his plate and his peach over and sat at the table. Derek stayed a few feet away leaning up against the tan wall.

"I'm a special operations combat officer." Derek held both hands in front of his face, palms facing out and moved them back and forth across each other, in the universal gesture of 'no, back off.' "I know how to lead men and women into battle, but I have next to zero experience leading anyone away from a fight." He paused for a moment.

"We met up a few months after this, right Charley?" John ventured. "Mom and I had just run to West Fork, Nebraska and you were just back from the Marines. All of us were starting over together."

"And you know me, Charley." Sarah reached across and took Charley's wrist as he was bringing a forkful of last night's meatloaf up to his mouth. They traded goofy smiles, "You know what emotional buttons to push. You could convince me, or at least keep me talking until John and the big guy show up."

"Okay, so that much is settled." Derek breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't relish trying to talk Mamma Bear down from attacking the man she thought would kill everyone's children. He glanced over at John gesturing for him to write down that part of the plan.

Then Derek asked another question, "How did he actually die?"

Sarah looked into the distance reliving that moment. "Miles was caught in a hail of gunfire when the SWAT team breached the clean room at the Cyberdyne labs. He didn't die right away. Dyson held the dead-man's switch detonator and distracted the SWAT officers while John and I and the big guy worked our getaway." She paused, her face reflecting her pain. "Miles died. The dead man's switch clicked…" she trailed off.

"Boom," John finished softly.

Derek grabbed the blueprints for Cyberdyne and positioned them in the center of the table. He faced the plans toward Charley so he could finish eating and pay attention at the same time. "All right, if we want to go for subtle, here's what we need to do." We all crowded around. Derek pointed to a spot on the blueprints, "First we let Miles past the guards with his ID. From inside he can hack the building's security cameras. Then he can let Charley, younger Sarah, young John, the two Terminators and me enter through the shipping and receiving dock--"

Charley interrupted, "Two Terminators? I thought you guys told before me that back in 1997 the liquid metal guy was trying to kill John."

"No, not that one. I forgot to mention, we have to stop in April 2007 to pick up the model TKO715." Derek thought he'd clarified the point. He shrugged started to analyze where to set explosives to demolish Miles' work.

"Sorry, I still don't know which one you mean." Charley interrupted again.

"It looked like a young girl and John fawned over it to no end." Derek grumped

"Oh, you mean the very scary robot girl who posed as either his stepsister or girlfriend. I never quite figured that relationship out." Charley nodded. "The one whose death we faked by running that lovely Mustang into a tree out in the country and then blowing the car up with C4.

"You guys know that my wife got us the thigh bone and forearm bones that we used out there." Charley continued, "She smuggled them out of the anatomy practice that she teaches for the kinesiology students at UCLA. She's still hacked at me over that."

"You and John handled that explosion yourselves?" Derek sounded slightly distracted as though the wheels in his mind were turning faster than the moment.

"Indeed." Charley rose and rinsed his plate around the pile of dishes in the sink. "When I was in the Marines, I worked with explosives and demolitions all the time." He winked at Sarah, patted John on the back and started to pick up his kitbag.

"Then where are you going? Stay here and help me figure out how destroy the prototypes without blowing up the whole lab." Derek motioned enthusiastically for Charley to return and help.

"I have to get back to saving lives. I'll stop in after my shift." The paramedic slung his pack over his shoulder. He opened the carport door a bit and looked over his shoulder, before walking out. "Here's one parting suggestion, Use det cord. It should be adequate for blowing apart computer hardware without taking down the whole lab. That way it will look like industrial espionage instead domestic terrorism." He grinned. "That should drop some of Sarah's warrants from Federal to State charges."

Sarah smiled in return as Charley left.

The three set to work on figuring out how much det cord and C4 they might need to grind Miles's AI research at Cyberdyne to a halt, without destroying the whole company. Subtlety, like Asimov encouraged in _The End of Eternity_.


	5. The more things change, pt 1

The More Things Change ...pt 1

July 10, 1997: The Day Miles Dyson must be saved.

The woman Charley Dixon first knew as Sarah Reese arrived at the knoll overlooking Miles Dyson's upscale, suburban LA home right on schedule. She set up her sniper nest on the reverse slope of the knoll and positioned some greenery to the front of her hiding place. As she sighted in her M16A1rifle across the Dyson's lush back yard she focused on her target area, ignoring anything that could distract her. Settling into a comfortable position on the reverse slop of the knoll, she took her binoculars out of her kit bag and began to watch and wait.

From his own covered and concealed position, about twenty-five metres away, Charley observed Sarah's preparation. He found it difficult to reconcile the tough warrior he saw before him with the tender woman he remembered. His younger self would meet her at a Halloween party later this year. He had shown up as an improvised Johnny Cash clad from head to toe in black with a second hand guitar slung over his back. Sharah's costume had been pink motorcycle leathers. Who knew Harley Davidson even made leather that shade?

A fond smile crossed his lips.

Charley pushed the memories to the back of his mind as he watched the meticulous detail and intense effort she put into constructing the sniper position through his own binoculars. He almost gawked at the brutal intensity and nearly vicious dedication in her eyes.

He recalled her 'Oh, God why?' speech from May of 2009. He thought back, before the trips through time with Derek Reese. First they recovered the scary robot girl and second they returned to 1997 to rescue Miles Dyson. Here in this time, at this place, Sarah was such an…Amazon. To there seemed nothing else in her.

The woman he remembered meeting, the one he had gotten to know over the years, had had a muted feral intensity and a healthy dose of womanly and maternal tenderness mixed in with the dedication.

Charley leaped the intuitive chasm that in today's pressure cooker experience at the Dyson house, Sarah must have transformed, like a butterfly. Or maybe a wasp. Charley couldn't risk John with her if she didn't lose this razor edged violence. And he knew that he would never have asked her out much less proposed to a woman like the one he was observing now. He picked up his radio and called Derek to make his case for a change in the plan.

The sun began its crawl down the horizon. The western sky began to flare red and orange, another gorgeous California sunset. Sarah ignored the sunset, just as she had ignored the swimming pool, the vine-covored arbor and the small volleyball court in the Dyson's back yard. She just drank more water to ward off the dehydration of the hot afternoon sun and ate half of a meal bar to take the edge off her hunger. Keeping the binos up, she watched Dyson's office, waiting for him to go in and at least check his email.


	6. The more things change, pt 2

A/N -- 1. props to my faithful beta, Dragonlots: her realworld friends may be in trouble but she still makes time for virtual ones like me.

2. dragonlots; notes came in a few hours after i put chapter 5 up the first time. I ended up reworking it into two peices. this is substantially a rework of the original chapter 5. But hey, i think it's better, so give it a read. I changed a couple things...

The More Things Change, pt 2

July 10, 1997: The Day Miles Dyson must be saved.

As flares of red and orange faded through the spectrum of yellow on the way to the deep blues and indigos of another gorgeous California sunset, Sarah Connor sprawled in her sniper nest focused only upon her kill zone in Miles Dyson's home-office. She heard a voice, "Don't get too comfortable there." The voice had a good point. She didn't want to doze off and miss her opportunity with her subject. _One shot. One kill. Bullets and death, Connor. Time to save the world_.

"You wouldn't want to doze off, Sarah Reese." The voice sounded kind, confident, assured, and yet, she'd heard no one approach. The voice had called her by name. The wrong name. In moments like these, she always called herself Connor.

In a single, fluid motion, Sarah rolled and pulled her 0.45 caliber pistol, flicked off the safety, chambered a round and rose into a kneeling firing position. She aimed directly at the spot where she'd heard voice: She saw no one.

Hearing voices was a new thing. _Maybe I really did belong in Atascadero State Mental Hospital, before John and the tall Terminator with the Austrian accent and biker leathers broke me out._

"Good motion, nice shooting stance, you would have made a fine Marine." The voice came from behind her again. Not too loud. Not far, but not very close either.

The lady warrior brought her weapon around, tracking with her line of sight. She pivoted on one foot, searching for the voice. "Who's there!? Where are you!?" Sarah growled angrily.

And then she saw him twenty meters away, sitting on a small, light green electrical termination box under a streetlight that was just warming up. He would be taller than her when he stood. His reddish-brown colored hair was short, but not military. His muscles looked firm. He just sat there in nondescript jeans and a t-shirt, arms held half way up, hands open, flat palms facing toward her. His stance was non-threatening; his smile, open. But his eyes…His eyes were intent: observing, studying, calculating. She could tell that he was assessing her, just as she was sizing him up: as a threat.

_He's kinda cute though. Crows' feet around the eyes, a little too old. Focus, Connor. You're here to do a job. Not get a date._

Charley just sat there on his perch, and looked at her: Passionate, dedicated, fierce even. Derek Reese had somehow been spot-on when he'd described her as some kind of uber- Mama Bear who saw all the world as her cubs. Was that a hint of madness in her eyes? _Have to be careful what I say here, I could wind up with a bullet in me. Paramedic, heal thyself, my ss! _"You've got a pretty good sniper nest there: solidly positioned M16A1 assault rifle, good concealment, reverse slope. That's how Marines would do it."

"Yeah, I read your sniper manual." she still had the pistol pointed at him, but she flipped the safety back on. "It's better than the Army's."

They both heard the sound of a vehicle in the Dyson's drive way. Sarah put her pistol back in the holster and snapped it in. Then she dropped back down flat on ground next to her M16 and looked through her binos. That was Dyson. It wouldn't be long now.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Sarah?" Charley asked.

"Who told you that name?" she growled. In a second, she leaped back up drew her pistol and closed with him. Charley willed his reactions slower. Sarah brought her sidearm against his temple, and put the other arm in a choke-hold around his neck.

Charley felt surprised by how much will it took to ignore his training: not disarm her, not take her down. In the Marines, they'd all trained in martial arts, hand to hand combat, and disarming an opponent. But instead he sat there and struggled to breathe. "You told me." He spat the words out through clenched teath. "You also... gave me ...a message. 'Future's not set. No fate but what we make...'" He gasped.

Hearing that line, it was like a password. She loosened the choke hold, backed away and let him stand up. Though she kept her sidearm trained on him. Sarah needed a cigarette. "What is going on here? Are you from the future, too?"

"Yes."

"Who sent you?"

"You did, you and John. You don't have to do this Sarah."

"No way! No fraking WAY!" She was on him, "He has to die! Motherfraking Dyson kills five and half billion people!"

Charley took a deep breath and rolled with her strikes. Her combat boot smashed down his steel toed shoes, still he bent slightly and grimaced. Her knee came up into his cup supporter, but he doubled over anyway. And then she brought the butt of her pistol around in an arc that should have connected with the base of his skull, but he rolled and took most of the blow on his shoulder blade. Down he went, apparently for the count. Charley's task was to slow her down, not fight her and get shot. _I hope Derek has figured out how to work with scary robot girl._

Sarah lifted her binos and looked through the plate glass window into Miles' home office. The dark skinned man relaxed at his computer in a plaid shirt and chinos, typing away, in his own zone. He was in her zone, too: her kill zone.

She rolled over to her M16 rifle and reviewed her fundamentals: Steady position, cheek weld, sight picture, breathing, trigger squeeze. Bang! He was down! It was over! The future was saved! _Wait a minute…there's no smear. Where's the bloody red schmear all over the white wall and grey computer screen? _Sarah rolled away from her weapon and scooped up her binos. Dyson sat on the floor next to his office chair, holding a toy truck in his hand, pointing and yelling.

_Danny! Meddling kid! Doesn't he know it's bed time?! Where's his mother! _Sarah repositioned the rifle, re-aimed,…bang! Click. Thunk. She picked up her M16A1 assault rifle and performed immediate action. As she pulled the charging handle back, one round and half the firing pen flew out. _So much for the easy way._

_Quickly now, Connor_! Sarah rolled all her gear up in her poncho liner, jogged ten meters down to the cul-de-sac and tossed the whole kit into the station wagon. She drew her side arm, jacked the slid back part way, checking the chambered round. _Time to rock._

Dashing now, she ran up toward the Dyson's property. _Regain control of the situation immediately before the subject can rabbit away._ Into the lush back yard, around the sparkling pool, under the vine-covered arbor, Sarah ran. She carried the sidearm in a two handed grip, at the low-ready position, next to her legs. At a dead sprint now, the Amazon with a mad-on turned sideways to let her spaul vest distribute the impact as she used her upper back to knock open the side door of the Dysons' up-scale house.

She stepped quickly, carefully and deliberately along the wall, dodging around hanging paintings and vases on stands. _Not that I give a dmn about the art, I don't want to knock something over and have the crashing sound give my position away._ 'Where's Dyson?!_' _Sarah sub-vocalized through gritted teeth. _'_Where is he?_' _She heard a sound in the garage._ He's about to rabbit! _

She ran through the living room and the kitchen. Aiming through the open door to the garage, Sarah fired while running. _Pistol grip, sight picture, trigger pull. _The pistol barked three times. One bullet hit a tire of the car, another winged Dyson in the shoulder and spun him down on top of the riding lawn mower. _Where's the kid? _Miles Dyson spun to the floor and his dark skinned wife Terissa sat screaming in the front seat of the Beamer.

"Out of the car! Down on the floor, Lady! Fraking do it! Now!" Sarah yelled.

Terissa rolled out of the car into a pile of sawdust left from one of Miles and Danny's projects, sobbing.

Sarah screamed obscenities at Dyson while she closed with him, calling him out as the genocidal murderer she was convinced he would surely become. "I'll do it. I fraking swear!"

"Terissa, honey, take the car, just go! Pick up Danny and run!" Miles called with more calm than Sarah would have thought possible.

"Stay on the floor!" Sarah yelled.

Terissa chose to obey neither of them. She pulled herself together. Whimpering, sobbing and generally blubbering all over the place, the strong woman courageously crawled over the sawdust, across the garage floor to position herself spread-eagled over Miles. "Don't kill my husband! Please, don't kill him!"

After Terissa crawled on top of Miles, the flow of time seemed to change subtly for Sarah. She felt she was in an out of body experience, yet without leaving her body. Suddenly Sarah could see what was happening, what she herself was doing, from Terrissa's perspective. As Terissa held on to her courage in the face of Sarah's clear intent to kill Miles, Sarah saw a wife and mother pleading with a mean lady (herself). In a soft clear voice Terissa begged, "Please, don't shoot my husband. Please don't shoot Miles." Terissa's deep brown eyes pleaded with Sarah.

She saw Terissa staring her down. She saw herself as the wicked white witch all dressed in black. She saw Miles Dyson, lying there across the John Deere, stunned, but not flinching. She saw him tell his wife to take the child and flee. She saw the steadfastness of Miles and Terissa Dyson. She saw something she hadn't seen since 1984 when she and Kyle had stood up to the first Terminator.

All the horror of what Sarah was doing slammed fully into her heart like an LA city bus in the fast lane. The realization leaped, like the bus in _Speed_, from her heart another eighteen inches up into her brain. She dropped the magazine out of her weapon, and lowered it, while backing away from Miles and his terrorized wife. She backed up to the cold wall next to the door to the house beside the power tools, slid down it and dissolved into sobs.

_Oh God what had I done_!

A truck screeched outside. Time sped up and several things happened at once. The reddish-brown haired guy from the grassy knoll, the one who called Sarah by name, he ran in through the door to the garage and started treating Miles' gunshot wound. The three-car wide, steel garage door split apart, and a piece of it bent inward, revealing the huge brown haired Terminator in motorcycle leathers. Young John scrambled around the tall Terminator. The boy looked over and saw Miles being treated. Then he told the Terminator, "Check her," and pointed at Terissa.

In through the door to the garage walked a tanned young man wearing carpenter's pants and a long sleeved T-shirt . He had a day's growth of beard and looked like Kyle might now, if he had lived. In the hammer loop on his pants hung a remote control for a truck like Danny's. With him walked a petite young woman with shoulder length brown hair and matching eyes. Her fashion choices were out of touch: a coral tube top with arm warmers and black jeans? On her shoulder, she carried a sleeping five-year-old Danny Dyson, still wearing his overalls and ball cap.

The Terminator declared to the man who looked like Kyle with a five o'clock shadow, "Special Operations Lieutenant Reese, youa presence hea in dis timeline is not anticipated." . It swiveled its neck, tilted its head forward and down and appeared to look intently at the young woman who'd just entered with him. It cocked its head for a moment. "And you, what the he!l are you?"


	7. The more they stay the same, pt 1

A/N – Okay, this one is brand new. It picks up from just before ch 6 leaves off. Chap 6 ends differently than the first version "The More Things Change." I think it's better, so if you already read "The More Things Change" at least read the end of Ch 6 so you know why this one starts where it does.

The More they Stay the Same, pt 1

Young John Connor set his back pack down and took a seat in the Dyson's garage across from a Beamer with a blown tire. He hugged his mother, "It's okay, Mom. We'll make this right. We'll figure something out."

Sarah Connor wrapped her bare arms around her son, hugging him back. She wasn't checking him for damage. She really hugged him. "You came to stop me didn't you," she whispered in his ear.

Young John leaned back and looked incredulous. "Duh. Don't you get it, Mom? He gets it," John pointed over at 'Uncle Bob', "and he's a Terminator.

The Terminator with his ramrod straight posture declared to the man who looked like Kyle with a five o'clock shadow and carpenter's pants, "Special Operations Lieutenant Reese, youa presens hea in dis timeline is not anticipated." He swiveled his head, then tilted it down and appeared to look intently at the young brunette who still held a sleeping Danny Dyson. 'Uncle Bob' cocked his head to one side for a moment. "And you, what da he!l ah you?"

"Wait a minute, before you answer his question," Miles Dyson spoke from his position on the garage floor next to the John Deere riding lawn mower. Charley Dixon had finished treating the researcher's wounded shoulder. He gestured with his good arm to include everyone, "Someone tell me what's going on here."

Young John stood up and whipped a switchblade knife out of his pocket, "Show 'em," he passed the blade to the huge, heavily muscled Terminator. The young woman whispered to Terissa and carried Danny into the house to his room. The Terminator removed his motorcycle jacket, as he led the others through the house into the Dyson's kitchen.

Everyone stood transfixed as the Terminator jabbed the knife into his forearm and pulled it down to the wrist. The young woman who'd carried Danny in on her shoulder looked queasy. Terissa spoke for everyone when she said, "Oh…my…Gawd," as artificial blood dripped down the Terminator's arm onto the white tile floor. He did not flinch at all. Then he inserted the knife back into his forearm again and this time he cut all the way around, just below the elbow.

The Terminator set the knife down on the island and peeled the skin partway off his forearm exposing control cables and shiny titanium bones. Then he completely unsheathed his mechanical hand, ripping off all the synthetic flesh and dropping it into the trash. The Terminator held his arm up for all to see: titanium bones, servos in the wrist, control cables where the tendons should have been. This time, Miles holding his bloodied plaid shirt spoke up. "Great Scott! It's just like the sample. Do you guys know about the samples? They must have come from the other one like you, the one from thirteen years ago."

Sarah perched on the island in the kitchen smoking a cigarette. "Goddmn Cyberdyne! I knew they had something. I fraking knew it."

It isn't every day you get told you're responsible for the deaths of billions. Dyson took it pretty well. He only stepped out to throw up once. He sat there in chinos and a blue oxford shirt at the table listening as the Terminator laid it all out for Dyson in his Austrian accent; the future history of things to come: Skynet, Judgment Day, the War, everything. The scientist's wife sat with him and held his arm supportively. After the tale, Dyson put his good hand down on the table. "Well, that settles it. I'll quite Cyberdyne tomorrow. I can't continue to create something that...

From her perch on the island, Sarah finished a draw on her cigarette and cut Dyson off. "You don't know what it is to create something, to create a life, to feel it growing inside you. All you men know how to create is death. Men like you built the H-bomb. Men like you thought it up." Sarah paused in the middle of her rant as the man who so looked like Kyle just stared at her and the guy who'd first called her out, then come back to treat Dyson's gunshot wound looked incredulous. "What?"

"M-o-m," Young John ran his fingers through his brown hair, flipping his one bang to the side. "We need to be a little more productive here."

Dyson turned to the other men, the ones so transfixed by Sarah's H-bomb rant, "Derek, Charley, what do you make of all this. You're military men. You've been around the block more than a couple of times. What do you make of time-traveling robots and thinking machines that declare war on the world?"

Derek leaned forward looking like he was going to launch a salvo himself, but Charley put a hand on his arm. The paramedic spoke instead, "The proof was right there before our eyes moments ago when 'Uncle Bob' there cut his hand open and exposed the inner mechanism."

Dyson considered for a moment, "That's right, it is just like the sample." He slumped. "Okay."

'Uncle Bob' and Sarah stood up. "Let's go then."

"Where?" asked Terissa grabbing tighter to her husband's good arm. "Aren't we changing the way it goes. We're changing the future right here, right now?"

"No one must follow your work." The Austrian accented Terminator stated flatly.

"That's where you're wrong." The young woman twisted her arm warmers. "You're operating under the mistaken assumption that Skynet is the only killer AI that wants to wipe out the human race."

"It is." The heavily muscled Terminator narrowed his eyes again. A red glow began behind the irises, inside the eyeballs. He did not like this girl.

"It was the only one in the world you were sent back from." She stared right back at him.

Terissa turned to her and put a hand on her arm warmer, "Cameron, sweetheart, what can you possibly know about this?"

Cameron glared at Terissa and flashed blue light within her own eyeballs.

"All right!" Young John almost shouted, clearly excited, halfway dancing a jig. "Two Terminators! We can't lose! Liquid Metal Guy's got his coming, now."

"Skynet is not the only killer AI network in the future anymore." Cameron continued.

Derek joined her, "In the future that thing came from," he pointed across at the brown haired mountain of muscle, "Skynet becomes self-aware in 1999 and nukes the world, like he just said. What you guys," he gestured to Sarah, Miles, John and the huge Terminator, "are about to go and do will push it off until 2011. But while Cyberdyne is delayed, the rest of the world will catch up."

"No. It cannot be." the Terminator said. "I have detailed files."

"It is." Derek continues, "We Time Jumped back from 2009 and just a couple of months before we did, we fought and destroyed of a couple of killer robots built by a future Russian AI network."

Cameron spoke up again, "It's completely separate from Skynet, yet allied with it in its purpose to wipe out or enslave Man. And we know of at least one other as well, an Arab AI."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" John put his hands over his ears. "This is terrible." Whereas moments before he'd been celebrating, now his shoulders slumped. He looked ready to toss in the towel.

Cameron stepped over and sat next to John. Gently she put an arm around Young John's shoulders. "Ssshhh. It's okay." She smiled at him, the same smile another Cameron would show him a couple of years later in West Fork, Nebraska. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Dyson looked hopeless. Terissa, too. Uncle Bob was rebooting. Sarah just smoked cigarettes and looked pised. Derek and Charley each held his own breath.


	8. The more they stay the same, pt 2

A/N – Changing Cameron's appearance. Should have done this in when she first appeared in 1997 a couple of chapters back. Prior to the Time Jump she became a peroxide blonde and added green contacts to change her eye color. The reasoning for this is as follows... if she looks different, then we have less of a time paradox when John meets her in 1999 and doesn't immediately recognize her.

The More the Stay the Same, pt 2

Cameron stepped over and sat next to John. She looked down at him through peroxide blonde bangs. Gently she put an arm around Young John's shoulders. "Ssshhh. It's okay." She smiled at him, the same smile another Cameron, this one a brunette with matching eyes, would show him a couple of years later in West Fork, Nebraska. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Dyson looked hopeless. Terissa, too. Uncle Bob was rebooting, unable to reconcile the alternative version of future history. Sarah just smoked cigarettes and looked pised. Derek looked hyper alert. Charley held his cool. In a strange way it all came down to Cameron and Young John. Cameron reached for John's hand like she had often done with Teenage John. She laced her fingers with his and smiled a warm, hopeful smile.

"You know me don't you, up in the future." Young John said absently, slouched within his open button down shirt.

"Yes." Cameron replied directly, without embellishment.

"So, what, are we boyfriend-girlfriend?"

"Stepsister...girlfriend..." Cameron smiled dreamily and moved her head gently side to side, swaying her peroxide blonde hair. She continued holding his hand. "We still haven't quite figured it out."

Sarah's hackles were way up, from behind John and Cameron her face was growing read. Charley reached over and put a hand on her bare arm to calm her, the way he would in the future. "Wait for it." he mouthed to her.

"Do I sleep with you?" Young John asked.

"I can't tell you that. You'll just have to grow up a bit and see how it happens."

Young John raises his free hand, shakes his one bang out of his face and speaks in a dramatic voice, "No one should know too much about his own future. I know. You sound just like Doc Brown."

"Huh?"

"In _Back to the Future_, it's a movie. You know a movie? You go to the theater. The room gets all dark and you watch it on a big screen with a room full of people. They're fun. I'll have to take you to one. In the future."

"Are you asking me out?" Cameron, twisting toward John within her coral tube top, sounds truly surprised.

"I don't know." Young John smiles. There's an idea forming in the back of his mind. "We've got to live through tonight first. There's a T-1000 on our ass."

"You and Uncle Bob and your mom will figure it out." She punches him gently in the shoulder and drops her voice an octave or two, "No problemo."

"That's it." John snapped his fingers "We need an AI friend. Up in the future. There's all these A.I.s against us. We need one on our side!"

Derek took a huge breath, heaving within his painter spattered t-shirt. He hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath.

Miles perked up, "Yeah, I had a Professorship and research offer from UCLA a couple of years ago. I could go there develop the friendly AI in an academic environment and take the bright young kid, Andy whatisname." He looks at Terissa for help with the name.

"Andrew Goode, Miles." Terissa supplied the name gently, "He cooked the hamburgers at the Company barbecue a couple of weeks ago."

"Now we're cookin' with gas" John said. Chuckles, coughs and strangled laughs echoed around the kitchen. Gallows humor, but much needed. Team Connor rose resolutely for the Mission.

Terissa offered to pitch in with loading materials for the Mission, but Sarah and Miles talked her out of it. Derek and Charley cross loaded the det cord. Cameron made sure that Miles Dyson got a bulletproof vest. Miles made sure that several large magnets and his personal degauss device were loaded. With his bum arm he couldn't carry them himself. Uncle Bob looked askance at being asked to carry something so puny and light as a few magnets.

Somewhere in the midst of discussing Mission plans, cross loading materials, and putting on jackets and coats, Miles decided that it was enough to absorb two time-traveling robots from alternate post-Apocalyptic futures and the knowledge that his life's work to-date had gone off the rails causing said Apocalypse in at least one future. He let slide the fact that his new friends Charley and Derek and even Danny's new babysitter, Cameron, were far different from what they had each appeared when they'd all meet a few weeks back.

During the ride into the city to Cyberdyne's research building, Charley put a hand Miles' good shoulder. "Before we Jumped back, Future John wanted me to make sure you understood something. You can build an AI that's pure mind later. We need you build one that's like a human first."

"Why?"

"Well, John and Andy worked out this proof..." Charley reached into his back pocket as though to grab something.

Miles extended a hand as though to take a paper from Charley.

"I can't remember exactly how the proof goes, but it's sort of like tis. If you make an AI that's pure electronic mind, who knows how it will see the world and which side it will take in the Skynet War? If you make an Android AI that interacts with the world in a human way, it will see the world in a human way. It will take our side, not Skynet's."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Charley." Miles stifled a yawn. "I've absorbed a lot in the last few hours."

Charley thought for a moment. "Okay, check it out." He turns in his seat to face Dyson. "An AI that's pure mind would be an abstraction like like Death or War. Terry Prachett will publish a book in 2003. Toward the end of the book, all these hoards of gray little demon things have frozen time and will next wipe out Humanity. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse come riding out.

"While riding out, Death turns to War and says, 'Hold out your sword.' War holds out his sword and asks 'What?' Death answers 'Look at your hand: four fingers, a thumb. Humans gave you that hand.'

Charley looks over into Dyson's eyes, really hoping he gets it. "See all the hope and fear and belief that humans had put into Death and the Horsemen had shaped them. When the gray demon things were about to win, the Horsemen drew their swords against Humanity's enemies rather than riding out to destroy us.

"And that relates how?" Dyson rubbed his eyes with the hand of his good arm.

"Death and the Horsemen were no longer abstractions. They had taken on human form and that's what made them decide to fight on the side of humans. Give your AI human form and it will take our side in the coming war with the Machines."

The future, always so clear, now seemed like an unlit highway at night. The Connors were making up history as they went along. The group parked a few blocks away from the Cyberdyne building. Charley and Derek climbed out of Dyson's Lincoln Aviator SUV and jammed into the Bronco with Sarah, Young John, Cameron and Uncle Bob.

Dyson drove on up to the Cyberdyne building and parked in his usual spot. The researcher greeted the night watchman by name as he swiped his own card on the way in. The guard smiled, he always felt valued when the staff remembered him. "Working at this hour, Dr Dyson?"

"It's my turn to do the quarterly system update on the internal security software."

"Okay. See-ya."

Miles took the elevator like he usually would. He got off at the lab's floor, cleared several secured doors to his office and logged into the company's network there. Even typing the simple code to disable the keystroke logger was tough with his gunshot wound and the bulletproof vest. He thought about taking the vest off and then he had flashes of deja vu. Derek had told him about what would have happened, what could still happen, but the images that now flooded his mind were so much more vivid.

The alternative future memory unspooled in the scientist's mind. He relaxed and just let it take him. Dyson stood in the center of the Lab. Sarah, wearing the same long overcoat, was rushing John out through a side door. In his nostrils, Miles felt the acrid presence of the lab's halon firefighting gas . The big Terminator, Uncle Bob they'd called him this time, showed him how to set off the remote detonator. He just stood there letting the enormity of blowing his life's work to hell in an instant ball of fire was over him. He willed himself to move, but like being a dream he couldn't. He realized that he could hear the SWAT cops outside the steel door that had been explosively opened earlier – 'Let me try my password,' the Machine had said. He heard the tear gas cannisters sail through the air and clatter to the floor. He smelled the gas and began to gag. Then one, no two, no five bullets ripped through him. He spun one way then, the the other as the SWAT Team breached the entry way and opened fire with weapons on full auto.

Dyson's chair almost tipped over stirring him from the deja vu. He resolved to prevent it and returned to his hack. In his early days with another division of the company Miles had pioneered integrated digital audio-video surveillance and entry control systems. The progra back doors were right where he'd left them and he skillfully penetrated the video memory and camera controls without the system even registering his presence. Tonight, the guards could watch reruns on the security monitors as well as their TV. Dyson smiled at his own joke. Then he disabled the locks on all the doors from the lab down to the loading docks. They all considered themselves to still be locked and so did the overall security system. He backed out of the entry control system and sealed the webbing of programming logic up smoothly behind himself.

Dyson punched over to the real feed of the cameras and directed the exterior ones to display on various monitors around the lab. He hopped up out of his chair and made his way down to the loading docks.

The Terminators hauled up some heavy weaponry. The big one carried what looked like a 25mm 'mini'-gun. The girl carried a weapon that looked similar but had a larger barrel and fired what, thanks to his deja vu earlier, he now knew were tear gas cannisters. Derek, Charley and Sarah carried up the det cord and John brought up the magnets and the timing device.

Sarah took the degauss device and Dyson showed her where servers and disc files were stored. She began erasing the records of his team's work for the last decade. This time it would look like industrial sabotage. If they just had enough time. If one of the guards didn't see himself on the monitor or something. The men and the Machines set about wiring up the det cord as Dyson showed them all the proto-types of the chips and all the other hardware that would have to be manually destroyed, rather than simply erased.

Finally he took John back to get the samples: the hand like the big Terminator's and the partially crushed CPU board that had guided his research. John smashed the glass cases that held the hand and the chip. Then he stuffed them into his book bag and turned to go.

"Aren't you going to make some wisecrack?" Miles asked John as they moved out of the vault.

"No, I'm in a hurry." John answered hurrying down the hall toward the lab. "We've got to get the det cord set and make this look like a break in, so you can get out of here and get that job at UCLA to build us a friendly AI."

"Okay, I was expecting you to say something like, 'Now we've got Skynet by the balls.' "

"...by the balls,' yeah I was thinking that." John stopped looked up at Dyson and smiled, "How'd you know?"

"Deja vu"

On the way into the lab, Dyson glanced at the alarm status monitor and noticed that the silent alarm had been tripped. He didn't say anything. Cameron did. She walked up to Sarah and said, "The silent alarm's been set off by the guards at the front security desk. Do you want me to kill them?"

"No!" John said loudly. "You just can't go around killing people. Uncle Bob! Explain it to her."

"Dea is no time foa dat right now. She was just leaving with Mr. Dyson, weren't you 'Cameron'?" The Terminator called from where he was wrapping det cord around some hardware prototypes.

Cameron crossed her arms and planted her feet squarely facing the larger Terminator. "I don't take orders from you, Terminator."

The Machine looked up at Cameron thoughtfully, "Dat isn't what I am anymooah."

"Then what are you?" the fembot querried.

"Young John's protecta. Skynet's destroya, oa at least delaya." The Terminator continued working, having memorized the locations of all the parts of the prototypes. "What ah you?"

Cameron smiled faintly to herself, "Different. Special."

"Come on," he flashed his warmest Uncle Bob smile, "trust me."

"I'm John's friend, I think." Cameron seemed to be considering. "Maybe more. I don't know anymore." She didn't know. This unscheduled interaction with Young John might change things, in the future. She didn't like where this line of thought was taking her. "I have to go John, but I'll--"

Young John and the Uncle Bob Terminator looked at each other and smiled. Together they joined Cameron in the signature line, "I'll be back. We know."

Young John smiled at the thought that he and his two Terminators were in synch "Come on you guys, quick hi five"

The larger Terminator stood and two learning Machines, that had each in its own way begun to question its purpose and nature, exchanged hi fives with Young John and with each other.

Cameron squatted down, bending her knees, and mussed Young John's hair. "Be safe, young man. You'll see me in a couple of years. I think."

"What do you mean? Will you or won't you?"

"I don't know." Cameron truly looked uncertain and slightly disturbed by her lack of certainty, but she covered it well. One of the Connor family mottoes came in handy, "The future's not set, yeah? No fate but what we make, right?"

Standing up, she gave the little guy a quick hug.

John started to tear up. Then he grabbed her back wrapping both arms around her and pressing the side of his face against her arm.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." she told him.

"I know." Young John unfastened himself and smiled weakly, "I had something in my eye. I wiped it on your arm warmer."

Cameron turned to 'Uncle Bob,' "Kick the T-1000's ass. It's vulnerable to tem--"

The larger Terminator replied, "To temperature. I know."

"How did you know?" the petite Terminator asked.

"I figured it out." Uncle Bob pointed to his CPU, "My learning compuda is set to read-write, not read-only."

Cameron smiled briefly as though at a joke. Before she replied though, her look grew serious once more and she crossed her arms, "You take care of him." She nodded toward John. "Make sure that he'll be okay for a couple of years until I can get to him."

The T-800 stood resolute, "Of course."

And then in very human way she said, "You'd better. If I Jump back uptime and find out that he got injured or something... I swear when I get back to 2027 I will hunt you down personally and retire you before you can even get assigned to this Mission. I'll see that a different serial number of your Model makes the Jump back. One that can handle the job."

"Di probability of dat is so small as to be neglecdet." The larger Terminator replied.

Now it was Cameron's turn to tear up. "Take care, sweetie," she flashed Young John the thousand Watt smile, with a tear in her eye. "I'll be back." She patted Young John on the shoulder and turned to Miles. "Miles Dyson, you must live. Let's go."

From the window, Charley spoke, "Ah, wait a minute with that. The police are here."

"How many?" Sarah looked up from where she was still working on erasing disc drives and servers.

Charley held up one finger, "Just one car."

Uncle Bob walked over toward the larger weapons, "I will take ceah of di police."

Miles held up a hand, "No, let me do it. I can convince them everything's okay."

"I'm going with you." Cameron clearly wasn't asking permission.

"Okay." Dyson didn't argue, instead he grabbed a white lab coat and tossed it to Cameron. "Here, put this on. You'll be my new lab assistant." Then the scientist turned to address the whole group, "If I'm not back in eight and a half minutes..."

Derek replied without looking up from where he was furiously installing det cord. "Don't worry, we know what to do. Just let us do it."

"Charley and Derek, we will meet you back at the Time Lab."

"Yeah, yeah, we've got." Charley added, "Just let us finish here."

Miles called from the lab's entry door, "Are you coming, Assistant Phillips?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll have to catch me." Miles strode off toward the elevator.


	9. The more they stay the same, pt 3

A/N - I could blame it on my beta reader, but that wouldn't be honest. The truth is that I took a break from the Crusader AU to return to one of my other AUs. I had to see what was happening with my characters in the Trust AU. Yes, I've started another story on the Movies/ Superman board. It's called 'Darkseid Cometh' and it takes place in my Trust AU. If you like more action oriented stories, or if you've read my Big Idea stories on this board (The End is the Beginning, The Beginning is the End and the Dreams AU) and enjoyed them, then check out my stories on the Movies/Superman board. Many thanks to my beta, Dragonlots, who has taught me more than she knows.

The More they Stay the Same, pt 3

Miles Dyson strode confidently out of the elevator. He'd put his denim jacket back over his loose blue oxford, hoping that both garments together would help hide his bulletproof vest. Cameron came behind him in her white lab coat acting all a twitter: the excited new young lab assistant with stars in hers for being involved with such a great enterprise as Cyberdyne Systems. "Good night, Jim we're all done with the quarterly security system update."

"Is that why the system went buggy?"

"Maybe, Jim. What happened?"

"Easier to show you." The night watchman swiveled one of the security monitors around for Miles to see. "Look there. I'm up in the second floor corridor checking the key pads on the access control doors. It don't take a GED to know that I can't be in two places at once."

"You know what, that is strange...what do you think, Cameron? Did you ever see anything like this in your PhD program at Cal Tech?"

"Well, just the time when the comp sci undergrads cracked the security system as a prank."

Two police officers walked in through the front door. The guard looked up at them but Dyson continued, hoping the police would hear him.

The researcher said to the guard, "You know, Jim, the new software patch I installed earlier should reset this just fine when the system reboots at noon Greenwich Time. Let's see..." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "that'll be three A. M. here."

"Is everything all right here folks?" asked the senior officer. The young rookie with him was gawking at the swanky surroundings in the lobby.

"Well, officers, I ah..."

Miles spoke up, "You know, Jim, it's no problem. I'm sure it's just a glitch. The system will purge it when the software patch runs at three a. m."

"So, everything's okay then?" queried the senior officer

"Well, ah, yessirs." said the guard, "I think we figured it out."

"So, then you wouldn't mind us having a quick look around, seeing that we're already here?"

"Well, officers, there is an awful lot of classified research in progress in here, but we could show you the security system room and the loading docks."

"Oh, oh! Let's go see the security system room, Sarge!" The rookie, nearly bursting with excitement out of his highly starched black uniform, pleaded. "I bet they've got all kinds of gee-whiz computer stuff in there."

"We will, Rookie," the Sergeant thoughtfully agreed. "All in good time. First, we'll check first floor entrances and 2d floor windows for signs of a break-in."

"Okay, officers. Jim and Tom, the night watchmen here," Miles gestured to both the second guard who had returned to the desk and to Jim as well, "can help you with that. I need to get home to my wife, and I think my post-Doc here has party to get to somewhere in the city..."

Cameron winked and did her best to show a little thigh under her white lab coat despite her tight black jeans. She started out the door with Miles following after respectful nod to the officers.

Jim and the officers followed them out. Although whether they were looking at windows or trying to catch the sway of Cameron's hips was anyone's guess. Until the rookie made another overly enthusiastic comment. "Oh, oh! Sarge. Look at that window on the second floor. It's the guy who attacked the cop at the mall in Recita the other day. I saw his mug shot on the wall at watch briefing."

While the LAPD Sergeant and the guard were tearing their eyes away from what they thought was just a hot young blonde, the rookie grabbed his supervisor's radio mike from the Sergeant's epaulet. "Dispatch this is Adam – eleven! We have sighted a wanted suspect from the officer assault at Recita Mall at 23025 Research . Request back up and SWAT!!"

Before the seasoned officer could grab the mike back, and cancel the request Dispatch responded, "Rodger, Adam – 11. Back up and SWAT are on the way."

"Now you've gone and done it, Rookie!" The sergeant proceeded to chew the Rookie out while the guard went back inside and grabbed his buddy and they both took off. With a relieved sigh, Miles led Cameron around the building. They both climbed into his SUV and drove off.

-x-x-x-

Upstairs, the remaining Terminator announced. "Miles Dyson was unsuccessful mit da police. While he did make his escape, I just read the lips of one officer calling for back up and SWAT. I will prepare surprise for the SWAT team. The rest --"

Sarah stood up and loudly interrupted the mountain of titanium and synthetic muscle, "The rest of you hurry up and finish with the det cord."

Derek cut Sarah off with instructions for how to escape. Mean while Young John ran over to the Terminator, "But you swore!"

The Terminator looked down at the youth, and made rogue-ish half-smile, "Trust me."

-x-x-x-

The T-1000, in its guise as Officer Austin, was riding out to the Dyson house on a stolen police motorcycle. It heard Dispatch send out the SWAT unit. It proceeded to make a u-turn in front of on-coming traffic causing two collisions. Flipping on the bike's lights and siren, it raced to Cyberdyne.

-x-x-x-

Derek and Charley, with their own appointment with destiny in the year 2009, knew that Sarah and the T-800 would figure a way to beat the T-1000. When they finished with their det cord, they took their leave of Sarah and John. Derek whacked a couple of doors with a crow bar on their way out. Charley drove them quietly away in the Bronco.

-x-x-x-

Sarah and John waited in the stair well in the center of the building with breathers from the lab's fire system while the Austrian accented T-800 watched the security monitors to see where the SWAT unit set up to enter the building. When he saw the SWAT Team staging by the front door, he ran to the stairs and yelled down to Sarah and John. Next he vaulted the rail and dropped thirty feet to the floor, unharmed and carrying the tear gas launcher.

The three made their way around the west end of the building through side corridors while the SWAT unit ran straight up the nearest stairwell. Outside the building the 800 Series began launching tear gas on all the cops outside the building. While the cops were all gagging and puking, the android from a future motioned for Sarah and John, waiting in the entry alcove. Mother and son ran out to join him wearing the breathers.

As they boldly stole the SWAT van and roared out of the parking lot, a news helicopter flew up next to the Cyberdyne building and the T-1000 zoomed into the parking lot. The airborne news team began delivering a live report. The LAPD chopper departed in pursuit of the stolen SWAT Van. The T-1000 drove its motorcycle through the building and up the stairs.

Meanwhile the SWAT Team breached the door of the lab. They rushed in firing tear gas, weapons at the ready. But they saw no one. One of the Officers noticed the pile of prototypes tied together with det cord in the center of the lab. He began to poke at the det cord. Two leads ran across the floor away from the pile prototypes and into a locked vault.

"Attenshion Police," a deep male voice with an Austrian accent boomed through the lab. "Dis is an act of industrial sabotage. You just fount di det cord. Congratulations! You won di prize! Youa prize is dis: Dee tima which had 5:14 remaining hass now been dividet by ten. You have thirty-one seconds. If you tamper wit di det cord again, di time will again be dividet by ten leaving you two seconds if you ah lucky. And don't even think about di tima. It's secured in a vault protected by a key pad with sixteen bit encryption. It will take you at least ten minutes to crack. Twenty-five seconds. I suggest you --"

The last words of the announcement were drowned out by the SWAT lieutenant and his sergant yelling "Fall back! Fall back! Fall back!" The team made it out of the door as the det cord burst into flames cracking the prototypes apart and beginning to burn itself and some of the equipment to ash. White phosphorous detonated in the center of the pile of prototypes as the lab's halon fire suppression system quenched the det cord's flame. The white phosphorous burned through the halon gas, crisping the lighter materials to ash and heated the metal components until they warped out of shape.

On the top floor of the Cyberdyne building, T-1000 saw through the glass exterior walls that it was at the same height as the news helicopter. Bike and Machine backed away from the chopper until they hit a wall. The T-1000 gunned the engine and sprinted to the edge of the building smashing through the window-wall and arching through the air just beneath the rotors until the motorcycle nearly hit the helo. The Terminator leaped off the bike and grabbed onto the nose of the helicopter. It edged around toward the pilot's chair on the right side. A head butt smashed the pilot's window and the Machine became a gel and poured itself through the hole.

The Machine opened the pilot's door and flung her out. It sprouted two additional arms which rapidly became swords and jabbed across the interior of the Bell Jet Ranger piercing the heart of the reporter and a lung of the camera man. Their work done, the bloody appendages retracted.

The helicopter weaved sharply, breaking out of its hover next to the Cyberdyne building. Moving the aircraft into a tight turn, T-1000 tiled the larger machine at such an angle that the reporter and cameraman fell out through the open door. Throttling the flying machine up to its maximum acceleration, T-1000 zoomed up the freeway, passing over a truck load of liquid nitrogen in its pursuit of the Connors, their inferior Machine and a date with its own destiny.

-x-x-x-

Later in the Time Lab hidden in an aging parking garage Charley, Derek, Cameron and Dyson met up again. Dyson was asking Cameron, "So, do you think Sarah and John and the big guy made it? Did they beat what ever was after them?"

"They beat it before, they can beat it again," she answered simply.

"Yeah, but this is before, isn't it?" Dyson asked, with a pinched look on his face.

"Not exactly, keeping you alive is changing things." Derek pointed out.

"I've learned that it's best not to think too hard on these kinds of ideas." Charley opined. "It makes my brains leak out my ears and I'm just a Paramedic. A mind like yours, Dr. Dyson, you'll pickle yourself."

Dyson smiled at the remark and nodded acceptance of the compliment. "I know that 'thank you' hardly covers it, but what else can I say?" Dyson graciously shook hands with Charley and Derek. He didn't know what to make of Cameron, but she had kept Danny away from the worst of it and helped him escape the cops in the Cyberdyne parking lot. He shook her hand too, and noticed how it felt warm, alive even.

He started to ask her about her biology. She held up her other hand, "Don't ask. Some things you just have to figure out for yourself."

Dyson stood outside the door marked 'Electrical' as his two guardian angels and a guardian something entered through it. He waited outside trying hear through the concrete and steel. Finally he heard a crackling sound, and a rushing wind and saw blue light flash under the door. And then all was dark and quite. All of them now faced an uncertain future, but one with a little bit more hope than before.

-O--O--O-

Miles Dyson got the post and the research fellowship with UCLA.

Andy Goode came with Dyson, finished his graduate degree and started in Miles' PhD program. Progress on the AI was slow at first.

Terissa and Miles gave Danny a little sister named Sarah Cameron Dyson.

Eleven months and twenty days went by. Miles and Terissa hardly spoke of what had happened. They hadn't heard from Sarah or Charley. No letters or phone calls, not even an email from John.

Eleven days short of the one year anniversary, a card arrived in the Dyson's mail box. It was post marked West Fork, Nebraska. The return address said Dixon and Reese. Those names didn't mean anything particularly by themselves. Yet somehow even Danny knew this card was special. As baby Sarah sat on her brother's lap, they all opened it together.

Inside was a plain white card with four tickets to a California Angels baseball game on July 10, 1998, the one year anniversary. The back of one ticket read, 'Bring Andy, too.' Miles and Terissa exchanged glances. They knew. They didn't need to read the card, but they looked anyway. No words were printed, just three signed names.

"Who are Sarah, Charley and John?" Danny asked.

Another meaningful glance exchanged between his parents, and his father answered, "Old friends."

No way would they miss that baseball game.


End file.
